A King's Travels
by FaktCheker
Summary: When Eriond finished his duty as child of light, the battle is over, right? Wrong. The Purpose of the universe needs Belgarion to prevent another cosmic accident at, well, where else but Hogwarts? R&R!
1. Chapter 1

I just _had _to get this off my shoulders! Enjoy! Takes place just before the end of Seeres of Kell and Sorcerers Stone Achtung! Warning! Danger! Danger! Red Alert! Profuse amounts of Time Skips sighted! If you no likey, you no ready!

---- ----

Belgarion, King of Riva, Overlord of the West, and Wielder of the Orb, clutched his head in agony. Through tearing eyes, he watched Errand, or to be precise, Eriond, recently proclaimed god, and Child of Light, push the pulsating Orb of Aldur into the Sardion. Light flashed through the crystal cavern in the high places of Korim. The world shook, mountains fell, seas heaved. The Sardion trembled. The Orb's brother, finally making the fatal contact with his blue sibling, shuddered one last time, and exploded. Flaming, luminescent shards of the red stone blasted skywards, tearing a hole in the ceiling of the cavern.

"No-!" Zandramas held out her arms pleadingly, the light held within her struggled to release itself. "Belgarion! Save m-!" With one last shudder, she shattered, the pinpricks of light contained within her body following the fragments of the Sardion. Belgarion slowly looked up. He raised his head, looking for the exultant faces of Aunt Pol, Belgarath, Durnik, anybody! Instead what met his eyes, was blue. Blue, isn't really the best term for it. To Belgarion's eyes, he saw more of a miasma, of every shade of what is known as ' blue', from the deepest Lapis Lazuli, to the palest periwinkle.

"Hello?" He called out. Again, with his mind, _'Hello?'_

_ 'Hello Belgarion' _Belgarion jumped, startled.

_'Is that you, _Purpose? (It is no longer a prophecy, 'cause they just won._'_

_ 'Yes,'_ The familiar dry voice almost chuckled, _'Your task is not yet complete, child.'_

_ 'Aw, come on! I'm all-'_

_ 'Not where you're going.' _The voice interrupted, _'You are needed in another time, another place. You were my finest Child as of yet,' _Belgarion grinned, _'Stop that! I'm trying to be serious! Anyway, I need you to go somewhere-'_

_ 'Where?' _

_ 'Why do you never let me finish?' _The voice complained, _'I _was_ going to explain it to you, but I guess ill just take you there and figure it out.' _Belgarion frowned. He never explained _anything_.

_'You're right. I don't' _Belgarion was about to reply, when his surroundings flashed, and everything went dark.

----The Burrow----

"Ron! Get the bloody door!"

"Shut it, Fred! You know that you're closer!"

"I am not bloody closer! And I'm George!"

"No you're not!"

"SHUT UP!" The bickering redheads turned. "Both of you will get the door, and that's final!" Mrs. Weasly said, voice calming. Ron and Fred, or was it George? Well, anyway, Ron and one of the twins went to answer the door. Ron walked up to the door, and pulled. Stuck.

"Oi! Fred! George! Whoever you are! A little help here!" The twinned redhead grumbled, and went to help Ron. With a heave, the door popped open, and a boy, about eleven years old, fell inside. Fred, (or George) grabbed him under the armpits, and slowly lowered him to the ground. The boy coughed once, and spoke.

"Hi. I'm Garion." He coughed again, and fell unconscious.

------------

Garion blinked once, twice. He slowly sat up, only to be immediately pressed back into his bed. Wait, bed? When did he get into a bed? He looked up into the stern face of a redheaded lady. Garion cringed. She bore an eerie resemblance to his wife.

"Uh, hi?" He said nervously. The woman's face softened.

"Hello to you, too." She said in a warm voice. "Are you hungry?" Garion sighed. At least she was _nicer _than Ce'Nedra.

_'Comfortable, Garion?'_ Garion jumped.

_'Why yes. But first things first. Where the hell am I?'_

_ 'Well,'_ The voice almost pouted, _'You never let me explain that, did you.'_

_ 'Just tell me!' _Exasperation showed in Garion's mind-voice.

_'No.'_

_ 'Why?'_

_ 'It's easier that way. I'm going to take over for a few seconds. Bye'_ Garion didn't even have time to cry out, as he was shunted to the back of his own mind. He looked up to see the frantic face of the woman from earlier.

"Are you okay? You just went silent for about five minutes!" _'Yeah' _Garion thought, _'I was having a little conversation with the Universe inside my head'_

"I was just...thinking." Garion, or rather, the Purpose, said. The lady looked relieved.

"Oh thank goodness! By the way, you can call me Mrs. Weasly. Now, what are you doing all the way out here?" "The Purpose cleared it's throat, and spoke.

"Well, my mother, Ildera Ryva, just passed away," Garion's face contorted into a look of deep melancholia, "and right before she died, she gave me this letter here," The Purpose reached under the covers and willed a small parchment letter into existence, "said something about Hogwarts, and, well, told me to come here." Mrs. Weasly frowned.

"I'm afraid I don't know anyone named Il-" Garion's eyes glowed blue, Mrs. Weasly stiffened. "Ildera! Oh, that poor thing! Goodness! I am so sorry! Hogwarts, you say? Wonderful! Little Ronnie-kins is going, and he'll have someone his own age to talk too!" Garion frowned as the Purpose left him. Same age? He looked down at himself. Or, rather what he looked like as an eleven year old.

_'Hey!' _He cried out, _What's going on? Did I-'_

_ 'What does it look like?' _The Purpose interrupted,_ 'You needed to be younger for this task. Try thinking for once.'_ Garion humphed, and withdrew to reality.

"Well, I guess I should better meet Ron..."

----- -----

A tree swayed. A breeze blew. The sun shone. Two boys washed dishes. To be more precise, they were also washing pots, pans, an oversized griddle, several large cauldrons, two smaller ones, and the oven.

_'Why does my mother make _me_ wash the dishes?'_ One boy, the redhead, thought.

_'Why,''_The other boy, hair a dirty blond, thought,_ 'after traveling through space and time, to who _knows_ where, and getting stuck in my pre-pubescent form, am I stuck washing dishes?'_

"Oi! Garion!" One boy, the redhead, said, "How do you do this so well?"

"Well," The other boy, hair a dirty blond, said, "I did this a _whole_ lot where I lived."

"And where was that?"

Flash

"A little town north of Buckingham-shire, why?"

"Just wondering. He, are you going to Hogwarts?"

"Hog what now?"

"Hogwarts! Wait. Your mum _was_ a Witch, right? Or your pa a Wizard?" Garion cringed. Witches were okay. Vordai _was_ kind of creepy, but Wizards? A blatant insult!

"My mum wasn't a witch, but I _did _know one...."

"Who was it?"

"Her name was Vordai." This time, Ron cringed.

"Not _the_ Vordai?"

"What do you mean, '_the' _Vordai?"

"S'who my mum used to read about to get me to fall asleep! The dread witch of the fens of old, trapping handsome men and having the creatures of the swamp do her bidding!" Garion's eyes widened.

"Um, maybe just named after her?"

"That makes sense." They continued to work in silence for a time, scrubbing away. Every once and a while, they would chat about simpler things. The weather. The continuous stream of jays taking perch on the windowsill, looking for a meal. The shape of the clouds outside the window. Twilight came, and the dishes were done. Up in his room, Garion fantasized about the many things he could have done, other than wash someone else's dishes.

----- ------

Sunrise. The golden glow of the heavenly sphere lit up the Burrow, that tall, ramshackle structure. It also rather unceremoniously woke up Garion. It did not wake him up the way sunrise usually does, that being shining onto the face and disturbing the eyes. No, this time, it was a little more...inflammatory.

"AH!" Garion jumped off the bed, and began rolling on the floor. You see, when the sun rose, a ray or three reflected off the wall mirror, across the room, through a glass paperweight, and permeating a decorative magnifying glass. And when focused on a corner of Garion's bedclothes, a very interesting effect was produced. _"Go Out." _Garion commanded, steel in his voice. The small flame obliged, and Garion took a sigh of relief. "That could have been bad..."

---------

"You never did tell me about your pa..." Garion looked up, mouth full of this cereal...stuff. It had been a little hard to get used to this food.

"What do you want to know about him?"

"Was he a wizard?" Garion's face hardened. Why did he keep asking about witches and wizards and such?

"No. Why would you think so?" Wizards. Simple charlatans.

"Um, because you have a _letter_ to Hogwarts?"

"I do?"

"Yeah!" Ron continued enthusiastically. "You had it with you when you showed up! So I already get to go with someone I know!"

"What to you do at Hogwarts?"

"Learn magic!" Garion almost choked on his milk.

"Magic?" He gasped.

"Sure! Hey, why are you so surprised?

"They actually have schools for magic?" Ron's lower jaw practically tore open a tunnel to the cellar.

"What do you mean, 'actually'?" Ron said indignantly, "Of course they do!" Garion looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"And what exactly do they teach you?" Garion's slightly superior effigy slid off his face as Ron's cracked into a broad smile. He mentally slapped himself in the forehead. What had he gotten himself into?

"Well, first thing you learn is how to use wands..."

_'Wands? Oh for the love of Aldur!'_

------- -----

Garion looked at the metal contraption. A strange blue monstrosity with strange malleable wheels. He raised an eyebrow.

"What's this thing called again?" Ron sighed. For the last few days, he had been attempting to introduce Garion to what technology the wizarding world had to offer.

"It's called a car, Garion."

"And how does it work again?"

Sigh

------ ------

"Come on boys! We've got no time to lose!" Mrs. Weasly burst out of the edge of the crowd, pulling two boys, one ginger, the other dirty blonde. The aforementioned children struggled to bear their load of, among other things, robes, books, and newt's feet, yet each one's mind was thinking completely different things. One, the redhead, thought how much easier this would be if he knew magic, and the other was trying his best to _not_ use magic.

"Oi! Garion! Don't 'y think they should have had some bloody enchanted trolleys or something?" Garion grunted. While his recently regressed body _was _quite strong, he thought that even his old friend, Barak, would have trouble with his load.

"Maybe, but a little exercise is good for the soul, I guess." Mrs. Weasly turned around impatiently.

"Boys! Do you _want _to get your wands?" Ron eagerly picked up his pace, while Garion mumbled to himself.

"Wands, bah. Petty magicians tricks. Only way to use magic my foot."

"What was that, Garion?"

"Nothing."

----Later-----

Garion looked around cautiously as he poked his head into the wand shop. "Ah...Mr. Ollivander? Sir? Hello?" He took a step into the building, Ron close behind. "Anybody home?"

"Another Weasly, I see." Ron and Garion jumped, turning to see an old man behind the counter. "Here to buy you're wand, I presume? And who would your friend be?" Ollivander pointed at Garion.

"Who? Oh! Garion! He was...um...my mum's friends son. Ah...Ildera Ryva, right Garion?" Garion nodded in agreement.

"Ryva...Ryva... I haven't heard that na-" Garion's eyes flashed, deep blue lighting up his face. "Ryva?" Ollivander continued, "As in Ildera Ryva? Ooh! I remember her like it was yesterday! Now _that _was a tough choice! How is she?"

"She's dead." Ollivander's face fell, and he began to say something. But Garion didn't hear it. He was deeply involved in another conversation.

_'Purpose? What in the name of the Seven are you doing?'_

_ 'Modifying their memories, what does it look like?'_

_ 'Why?'_

_ 'Why what?'_

_ 'You know what I mean.' _The voice almost sighed.

_ 'Yes, I do. You asked why?'_

_ 'YES!'_

_ 'Garion, right now you exist several thousand years in your worlds future, have practically unlimited power, yet all of that is lost if people don't believe you are who you say you are.'_

"Garion!" He looked up startled. "Blimey, mate! Try not to zone out so much! It gets a little creepy!"

_ "_Sorry, Ron. Did you get your wand?"

"Yup! You ready for yours?" Garion sighed inwardly. He was as ready as he would ever be. Wands! Foolishness.

"Now," Ollivander said, "Stick out your wand hand."

"Wand hand?"

"Your dominant hand."

"Oh." Garion stuck out his right arm.

"Lets take a look-see. Try this one out. He gave Garion a short length of wood. "Give it a wave!" Garion halfheartedly waved the wand. It shattered, splinters digging into the counter. "Hmm." Ollivander said thoughtfully, "Another tricky one today. This should be fun."

---- ----

Several wands, and almost an hour later, Garion was still looking. _'I had no idea these things could be so damn picky!' _Ollivander came back, holding a box that seemed quite old. "Try this one. I don't even remember the last time I pulled it out, let alone what it's made of. Well? Go on!" Garion reached into the box, and pulled out a long wand. It was an interesting color; it seemed black, but had a luminescent blue hue touching it in spots. Towards the end, by the grip, the wand became a very pale gray. He gave it an experimental wiggle.

_**!CLANG!**_

Something clicked inside of Garion's head. The wand began to glow. A blue miasma began to coalesce around the thin piece of wood. Ollivander leaned in closer, transfixed. Almost without warning, the wand burst into a flaring azure flame. Ollivander sighed.

"No, this just simply will not do not at-."

"How much is it?"

-----End Chapter 1-----

It didn't suck _that_ bad, did it? Any and all reviews welcome!

FC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is arrived! Directing attention to the 67 people who bothered to look at this story, Storm and Roc and WarKnyte for reviewing, and Storm and Roc again, and Changechild for alerting/favoriting. More reviews will be helpful! The word 'hiatus' might be in this story's future otherwise! Oh, and I'm sorry if the chapters feel a little rushed. I have been having bouts of 'must post something A.S.A.P.' syndrome. I just have this problem with _really_ long chapters. I just wanted to get to the bits I _wanted _to write. Maybe I should just write a drabble on funny things that would happen if Garion went to Hogwarts.

Anyway,

STORYTIME

"A brick wall?"

"Yeah!"

"Me?"

"Yup!"

"Walk _through _it?"

Ron moaned, and slapped his face.

"Yes, Garion. You walk through the brick wall. Just like Fred, and George, and Percy did." His fingers were sliding down his face, when a new voice entered the conversation.

"Um, excuse me." The redhead and the blonde turned. A slightly scrawny boy, with messy black hair, and a roughed-up look stood before them.

"By any chance, do you know how to get to the platform?" Ron grinned, and Garion sighed. The freckled boy had a thing for seeming intelligent.

"Platform nine and three quarters?" The black-haired boy looked relieved.

"Yeah. That's the one. Where is it?" Garion grinned.

"I've been through this explanation enough times to know!" He said, cheer in his voice, "Follow me!" And with that, the recently inaugurated member of the present turned on his heel, grabbed the handle of the cart he had been so recently been admiring, and marched towards the brick divider.

"Won't he crash?" The dark haired boy asked in a hushed voice, as he nervously combed his fingers through his hair, "That is _brick_ after all."

"Oh," Ron said, smiling, "He'll be fine. Platform nine and three quarters is _right _through the post between nine and ten. By the way, I never got your name!"

"Harry, Harry Potter. And by the way, how does the 'platform-inside-a-bunch-of-bricks' thing even work?"

"..."

**!SQUEAL!**

"Thank you sir!" The uniformed man grinned as he pulled the last of Garion's luggage onto the train.

"No problem lad!" He dusted off his gloves. "No' you better be goin' t' find y' self a seat! Trains a' leavin' in 'bout five minutes!"

Garion murmured his thanks, and turned to walk away. Reaching into his left pocket, he fingered his wand. He still thought the idea was strange, but there was something different about this. It felt...right (in a strange way). He strolled down the platform, a slightly self-satisfied smile showing on his face.

_'Now,'_ he thought, _'all I need to do is find a good seat!'_

**!WHSHHH!**

Garion turned sharply, eyes widening for a brief second before he was enveloped in steam. Coughing, he began flailing at the air with his hand, a vain attempt to get rid of the steam. Stumbling forwards, his foot touched something. He bent down to look at it, when he coughed again.

He rocked forwards, placing one hand out to steady himself. That hand met open air. He clutched around, looking for a handhold, before toppling forwards. He hit the ground, winding him. "Damn!" He moaned. He looked up, blinking, as the steam cleared. Dimly, in the distance, he could see the shape of a quickly retreating train.

"DAMN!"

Ron stared at the passing scenery, head pressed to the window. Looking up, he could indistinctly see the cloud of smoke trailing from the locomotive's smokestack. He shifted his body, now staring at the wall. _'God,'_ he thought, _'this is _boring_! Where the heck is Garion?'_

The door squeaked. Ron turned hopefully. Another first year peeked in.

"D'you mind?" Harry Potter asked, "Everywhere else is full, and-" Ron nodded his head vigorously.

"Sure, why not?" He returned to staring at the window. Harry leaned back, also staring into space. Time passed, and whether it was minutes, or hours, it seemed the same. The next instant, or hour, an aging lady pushing a cart bursting with candy, stopped in front of their cabin.

"Anything off the trolley, boys?" Harry eyed the sweets hungrily. He reached deep into his pocket.

"I'll take the lot!" A handful of sickles and knuts gleamed in his hand. He turned to Ron. "Um, what's your name again?"

"Ron." He replied after a short pause, face pressed intently against the window. "Oi!" He turned to the plump woman behind the trolley, "Do wolves ever chase this thing?"

Garion looked up. He could see Ron's face pressed against a window, three, maybe four cars ahead. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, sweat flying out of his pores. _'Why does this train thing _have _to be so fast?'_ He grinned (an appropriate adjective would be 'wolfish') as more and more passengers peered out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small dais, which led to one of the entrances to the train. His legs pounded on the ground, faster than before. Garion's muscles tensed, his lupine body preparing to jump. And jump he did. A short flight, accompanied by a skittering landing, and he was on board. A brief second of concentration, and Garion, now bipedal, yanked the door open, and stepped into the car. Step by step, he advanced through the rows of compartments.

"Oi! Garion!" Garion turned. Ron, poking out of the door to his compartment, motioned frantically with his hand. "Come 'ere mate! You got to see this!" Garion scooted around a gaggle of older girls, maybe second year, to reach his friend. Closing the door, he sat down on a bench.

"What was it you wanted me to see?" asked Garion. Ron's face lit up.

"There is an _enormous_ wolf chasing the train!" He grabbed Garion's arm and pulled him over to the window. "It's right...there..." Ron sat down, disappointed. "I swear! It was right there!" Garion laughed.

"I believe you," He said, chuckling, "and who's your new friend?" Ron looked around wildly.

"Who? What? Oh! Y' mean Harry!" Harry raised his hand in a semblance of a greeting, most of his attention occupied by a small, pentagonal, blue card he was staring at.

"Oi!" He exclaimed, almost indignantly, "He's moving!" Harry exclaimed. Ron chuckled.

"Y' can't expect him to stand around there all day, can you?" Garion grinned, remembering the first time _he _saw those moving pictures.

_-Flashback-_

"Garion!" Ron shouted, "Garion!" He'd been looking for hours, but couldn't seem to find his recent friend. "Garion!"

"Over...here..." Ron jogged away, following the sound of Garion's voice. He found him, in the parlor, staring at a photo of his great-great-great something-or-other. "Ron?"

"What?"

"Am I going insane?"

"Why would you think that?" Ron scoffed.

"The pictures are moving! Please tell me I'm not going nuts!

"..."

_-End of Flashback-_

Garion shuddered. '_Actually,' _he thought, _'let_'_s _not _think about that anymore. And _never _under _any circumstances, _tell Ce'Nedra.' _

"They...do that." He said shortly.

"Excuse me, but have any of you seen a toad?" Everybody looked towards the door with one, simultaneous motion. With the frizzy haired brunette standing in the doorway, it looked almost comical. She continued, "Neville's lost his toad... Well?" She looked across the uncomprehending faces of the three boys in front of her. "Oh. I guess not. Well...bye?" She slowly turned her head, and continued down the car.

Silence reigned.

After a few, still moments, Ron spoke out.

"Uh, anybody want to see me turn Scabbers yellow?" Harry nodded vigorously, while Garion simply said, "Why not?"

"Alright then." Ron pulled out his wand. "Um... _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid fat rat yellow." _A fitful spark burst out of the end of his wand, and Scabbers remained his natural hue. Garion laughed.

"Here, let me see him." He extended his hand, and Ron carefully placed his rat in his palm. "Are all spells that complicated?"

"Ah..." Ron almost stuttered, "...well...the ones that Fred and George told me at least..." Garion laughed again.

"That explains a lot."

"That wasn't a real spell, you know." The boys turned, and saw the same girl from earlier, standing in the doorway. "My name's Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger."

"Ah," Garion interjected, "We'd kinda established that already. I mean the bit about it being, um... well...fake? Let me try."

"But you can't!" Hermione burst out, "You don't know the proper incantations, let alone-"

"**Yellow.**" Garion's word had a force to it, something beyond the words Ron uttered.

"Garion!" Hermione almost scolded, "You have no... idea ...wha-" A slow change took over Scabbers. Almost like a wave of gold, Scabbers's fur changed from dull brown, to bright golden yellow.

"But...that shouldn't be possible!" Hermione breathed. That... that's basic transfiguration!" Garion looked puzzled.

"I'm not supposed to know that?" Hermione shook her head no, while Ron and Harry looked on in awe.

"Your parents could get into serious trouble for teaching you that! Underage magic is prohibited!" Garion stared.

_'Why didn't you tell me this?' _He thought indignantly.

There was no reply.

"He shouldn't have been able to do that!" Hermione almost shouted. "Nobody should have been teaching him magic! I think there's something weird about him."

Garion pulled a little farther down the hallway, nervous about the conversation going on inside. He had just gotten back from changing into his robes. If his grandfather saw him, he'd have apoplexy.

"No, really." Ron said dryly, "When he showed up, he knew next to nothing about the wizarding world, and even less about the Muggles!"

"Well," Harry thought, "Could he have, I dunno, maybe been living in the countryside all his life? Like, a town based on medieval stuff?"

_'Medieval?'_ Garion thought, _'What are they talking about?'_

"I don't know," Hermione replied, "All I'm sure of is that his parents are doing something illegal! Or at least, a lot different from the way the Ministry conducts things."

"Ministry?" Harry voiced the question forming in Garion's mind.

"Yeah." This time, it was Ron who replied. "The Ministry runs the magical community in England. Y' know, like your Muggle government."

"I didn't know we had one of those." Harry mused.

"But still!" Hermione continued. "Something's up! According to Hogwarts, a History-"

"Hogsa what now?" Harry interjected.

"Hogwarts, a History. You were supposed to read it."

"Oops."

"Anyway, it said that all incantations are Latin derivatives! Not 'yellow' for crying out loud! I say be careful around him.

"Oh, just be quiet, will you?" Ron said. "Garion's alright, okay? Just live with it! He can do some weird magic! Okay! Just let it lie!"

"I-..."

"Firs' years this way!" A giant of a man, donning a long coat bellowed, "Firs' years!"

_'He's taller than Barak!' _Garion thought. He moved through the crowd of disembarking students. Steam shrouded the faintly glowing lantern in the man's hand. Garion turned around, seeing his friends still behind him. Harry, particularly, looked especially excited upon seeing the man he called 'Hagrid'. Harry motioned the group to a stop when they neared him!

"Hagrid!" He cried, gleefully.

"Harry!" The giant responded in like manner. "Good t' see you, m' boy!" Best be gettin' on t' them boats now, eh?" Garion's face lit up at the mention of boats, but Hermione's looked particularly green, for some reason.

"Boats." She muttered. "Why _always_ boats?"

Garion nudged her. "What?" He asked plaintively. "Don't like boats?"

"No. Not at all." She replied curtly.

An increasingly large group of first years had gathered around the groundskeeper. Looking around, Hagrid apparently decided that everybody had arrived. Turning his enormous frame, he led the students down a path, into a grove of trees. Within minutes, they stood on the edge of a wide lake, its water gleaming like obsidian glass under the moonlight.

"Any boats?" Garion voiced. Hagrid only grinned. He turned, and struck a large bell with his fist. A bell that, previously, nobody had noticed. Out of the darkness, at least a score of boats, maybe two, slithered up to the shore. The students looked at them warily.

"Go on then!" Hagrid said in his usual boisterous voice. "Get on!" Garion eagerly hopped into the canoe, followed cautiously by Hermione. Soon, the rest of the first years had grouped up, and boarded a boat. A slight rocking brought a greenish cast to Hermione's face, and the grin Garion sported only made it worse. Then, without warning, the boats slid forwards, knifing through the small waves. The lake was eerily silent, at least, until the small flotilla rounded a bend in the lake. Most of the first years gave a collective gasp. Hermione let out what could only be called an anticipatory (Yes, that _is_ a word) squeal. Garion almost laughed at his friends antics.

Suddenly, Hermione dug her elbow into Garion's ribs.

"What. The. Bloody. Hell. Are. Those."

Garion looked up, startled. Hermione was not one to curse.

"And by 'those' you mean..." He let the sentence trail off.

"The carriages!"

"And what's so strange about those?"

"They haven't got horses!"

"Don't Muggles have a thing like that? Those 'car' contraptions." Hermione mentally smacked herself in the face.

"No! These are different!" Garion sighed.

"And where would they be?" Hermione pointed frantically to the dim lights on the shore of the lake.

Garion squinted. Now he could clearly see the silhouette of a group of carriages. And, also quite clearly, he could see the horses pulling them.

"What are you talking about? They have horses!"

Hermione paled. "Um, Garion?" She squeaked.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever seen anyone die?" asked Hermione. Garion looked up.

"Why?" he replied. Hermione looked around nervously.

"I...have a hunch." said Hermione. Garion fidgeted. The question was a little invasive.

"Ah, yes." answered Garion. Hermione brightened.

"Okay! Then they're probably Thestrals."

"Thestrals?"

"Oh! You can only see them if you've seen death. In particular, a human's."

"Seen enough of that..." Garion muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." Hermione looked at Garion.

"Who was-"

Then they rounded a bend in the lake...

A collective gasp rose from among the passengers of the canoes. Reflecting on the gleaming lake, an enormous castle rose before them. Soaring spires, climbing walls, and intricate buttresses, it was a sight to behold. Well, for most of them.

"Obviously never seen Vo Mimbre." He said, just a little too loudly. Hermione looked at him a little oddly.

"Vo Mim-what? Is that a castle on Scotland?"

Garion froze. "Um...what are you talking about, Hermione?"

"You just said something about a place called Vo Mimbre!"

"No..."

"..."

"Rosenthal, Michael!" A nervous looking boy made his way to the front of the great hall. Garion was still having trouble taking his eyes off of the ceiling. He almost fell over when he looked up, seeing the glittering night sky littered with stars and floating candles...

All the students were going through some sort of ceremony, involving a strange talking hat. All of his friends had already gone through this, and were now sitting at the Grifo-something-or-other table.

"Hufflepuff!" The few remaining students shifted nervously. Harry had already been sorted after a long wait, and Ron had gone up, too, as with Hermione. All three were sorted into Gryffindor.

"Ryva, Garion!" Garion looked up, startled. Threading his way through the crowd, he approached the inconspicuous hat resting on a simple three-legged stool. He deftly grabbed the hat with one arm, sat down, and put the hat on.

_'Hello.'_ Garion jumped. Did that hat just talk _straight into his head_?

_'Yes, Garion, I did.'_ Garion jumped again. Did that hat just _read his mind_?

_'Yes, Garion, I did.' _The hat sounded quite exasperated now. Almost beginning to sound like the mysterious voice he later found out to be the Prophecy of Light.

_'Prophecy of what now?'_

_'None of your business.'_ Garion retorted.

_'Actually, it is.' _The hat replied smugly. _'How am I supposed to sort you if I don't read your mind?' _

_'Am I really having a conversation with a hat?'_

_'Yes, you are.' _

_'Do you _have _to read my mind?' _Garion whined.

_'Yes, I do. Now open up.'_ Garion sighed.

_'Promise not to tell anyone?'_

_'Got a secret crush?' _The hat wheedled.

_'No.'_ Garion said. _'Much more important.'_

_'Okay, I promise.'_

_'All right, here I go.'_ Garion opened the customary barriers on his mind. Memories, images, moments he thought long forgotten flooded through his head.

_'Oh. Oh my.'_ The hat breathed. Garion remembered. Asharak, leading a band of Tolnedran legionaries, soon to be burned to death. Ctuchik, crying out to Belgarath, to save him from his mortal mistake. Torak, with his last breath, crying out to his mother. And then the images stopped.

_'Ah...okay. That was new.' _The hat seemed very unsure of itself now. _'How could I put someone with that life anywhere but-'_

"GRYYFINDOR!"

Well, that's it. Again, sorry if it seems rushed. I just want to get to the good parts.

FC


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry its been so long. I got hung up over the summer and then delayed by marching band. Then I spend the last month acclimating to high school and planning some more plot. Without further ado,

**STORYTIME!**

A soft glow poked its way over the horizon. As the first rays of sunlight played across Hogwarts castle, its occupants began to stir. With a slow yawn and a stretch, Garion pulled himself out of his four-poster bed in the Gryffindor Dormitory. He gazed around the room, searching for more wakeful faces. He didn't see any. Yet.

"OI!" Garion's powerful bellow (for an adolescent sorcerer at least) woke the room. "Come, on! Get up! We've got to get to breakfast!" With a chorus of moans, the rest of the dorm slipped into alertness.

"Garion, did you have to be so loud?" Ron groaned. Garion grinned.

"Yep! I was really hungry! Let's get something to eat!" Harry and Ron nodded and began to slip into their robes. Several of the other occupants, whom Garion hadn't had the chance to introduce himself to, did so also. "Lets go!"

The trio made their way down the stairs into the common room. A familiar figure graced one of the many overstuffed chairs.

"Ah!" Hermione exclaimed. "Finally, you decide to grace me with your presence. Shall we go?" Garion nodded, and the three boys followed Hermione out through the portrait hole and into the hallway. The corridor was a blizzard of activity. Teachers made their way to their classes; students hustled to and from the great hall. The four Gryffindors claimed a spot at the long table and set about filling their plates.

"So who knows which class we have first today?" Ron questioned. Hermione quickly pulled out her schedule.

"History of Magic." She replied. Ron groaned.

"Bloody hell! Thats supposed to be the most boring class in the whole castle!" Harry looked puzzled.

"Why? Is there something wrong with the professor?"

"Yeah," Ron replied dryly, "He's dead." Garion shuddered, remembering the ghosts from the feast the previous night. "Fred said he constantly lectures, and just about everybody sleeps in his class."

"Well," said Hermione, swallowing a bite of egg, "we'd better go find out how bad it is." The four stood up as the scraps of their meal vanished, collected their books, and exited the hall.

"Well," said Harry, "It looks normal enough." Garion noddded. The room _was_ rather plain. A large chalkboard adorned the wall at the front of the classroom, and nondescript desks filled the rest.

"Quick, lets find some desks," Hermione urged as students began to trickle in. The boys nodded and slipped into some desks, dropping their books on top. Minutes later, the room was filled, but the professor was nowhere to be found. Without warning, a translucent figure burst through the chalkboard. Several of the students jumped in surprise.

"Good morning," The ghost said in a dry voice, " I am Professor Binns, your History of Magic Teacher." He drifted towards the students. "Today, we will begin with ancient magical history. Would everybody please turn to page five of _Ainciente Magickal Historie of Moste Astounding Import _by Leoros Sethen." As he turned the page, Garion found himself looking at an extremely familiar map.

"No..." He whispered.

"We shall begin," Binns continued, "With what ancient Wizards called England." He waved his hand, and the map appeared, hovering in front of the chalkboard. "Here, we have what was formerly known as Riva."

"I can't believe how terribly drawn those maps were!" Hermione laughed. "Did you see how far west they placed Australia?" Ron nodded.

"Those names were pretty ridiculous, too. Perivor? Sounds like some medieval name or something." Garion stared ahead blankly, processing the new information.

"Yeah," continued Harry, "Isn't it cool that Hogwarts was build on top of some old castle?" Hermione nodded.

"You mean that Citadel? It is pretty intriguing. I wonder if we've seen any of the original architecture yet."

"We haven't." Garion replied curtly. The others looked at him.

"And...how do you know that?" Hermione said slowly. Garion froze.

"W-well," he started, "none of the architecture looked old or out of place. You'd think that the newer stuff would be on top, right? Any original work would clash." Ron scratched his head.

"Makes sense. Nothing looked _that _ancient." Garion let out the breath he had been holding.

"Hurry up, you three!" Hermione chided. "Transfiguration's next, we're going to be late!"

Out of breath, the four Gryffindors rushed into the Transfiguration room. The classroom was already almost filled.

"Did we make it?" Ron puffed. Harry looked up.

"I think we did, but does it matter? McGonagall isn't here." As they moved to the front of the room, a grey tabby cat approached them. It didn't stay a tabby cat for long, however. Slowly growing and shifting, before they knew it the stern visage of Minerva McGonagall stared at them.

"You four are very nearly late." Almost the whole room burst into stunned applause.

"Mr. Ryva, did you not find my display as impressive as the rest of the class?" Garion grew pale.

"No, no," he spluttered, raising his hands in front of him, "Its just-"

"Just what?" McGonagall asked, "Commonplace? Do you see Animagi a lot? A family member perhaps?"

_Should I tell her?_ Garion thought.

_Yes. It is necessary._ The dry voice of the prophecy replied. _It may be necessary for you to change. Do so if asked._

"Actually," Garion replied, "pretty much my entire family can change into animals." McGonagall looked at him sharply.

"Really now?"She asked, "Care to...demonstrate...for the class?"

"Garion!" Hermione hissed, "Stop this! Quit messing around with everybody so we can get to class." Garion raised up a finger, shushing her. He closed his eyes, and imagined a wolf. Large, almost a meter tall, with gray fur. Sharp claws protruded from the paws, and an eager tongue lolled out of its gaping jaws. Then, with an airy rush, the wolf was there, and Garion wasn't. The room was silent. A shaky finger rose up, and the student it belonged to rose with it.

"Oi! That thing was chasing the bloody train!"

I know, it's short, but I'm sick and it's hard to write. I finally did it though! Be proud. Review, and tell me what you guys want to see. I've got most of the main plot planned out, but suggestions are always welcome!

Adieu!

FC


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